


Timon And Pumba: Parents Again

by Fantasticly_Anonymous



Category: The Lion King (1994), The Lion King (2019), Timon & Pumbaa (Cartoon 1995)
Genre: After Everything They Deserve To Be Happy!, Also They're In Love With Each Other, And Miss Having Simba Around, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gen, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Therefore We Know They Can Raise A Kid, Timon And Pumbaa Were Basically Simba's Parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 14:47:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20707775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantasticly_Anonymous/pseuds/Fantasticly_Anonymous
Summary: The great Kings and Queens of the past following the reclaiming of Pride Rock realize just how good a job Timon and Pumbaa did in raising Simba. Wonder what they'll do with the realization?Timon and Pumbaa are in for a bit of a surprise.





	1. Timon’s Struggle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sad night out in the jungle sets the stage for our story of a deserving duo’s happily ever after.

Timon sighed a big sigh. Laying himself out for a nice lounge in his usual place on the crown of his best friend’s head. Giving the tuft of hair a pat to make sure Pumbaa was paying attention before he spoke.  
“I used to think three was a crowd, but now days? Ever since Simba left the nest it’s been feeling like two’s not company _enough_.” He slid on down Pumbaa’s forehead far enough that two giant eyes came into sight before going on. “Do you feel the loneliness like me, Pumbaa? When it’s late at night and there isn’t a third set of snores to fend off the deafening chirp of those delicious, _annoying_, impossible to catch in the dark, jungle crickets?”

The enormous set of eyes blinked once before looking down and to the side.  
“I thought it was just me.”

“Really? But we sing about Simba being gone and how he left us all alone out here at least twice a day.” Timon pointed out. Voice just a little incredulous. 

“Yeah. Guess I should have thought about that, huh?” Said Pumbaa, giving the back of his neck a sheepish scratch. 

“Yeah, probably. But at least we’re talkin’ about it now. I mean, what’re we gonna **do**, Pumbaa?” Asked Timon, flinging himself flat out as he half wailed the question. “Ever since the kid went off to take his ‘rightful place as king’ our harmonies’ve really been sufferin’!” The meerkat lamented. Letting himself slide the rest of the way down his friend’s face and coming to rest on the bridge of his snout. 

“Probably has something to do with us treating them like we’re still a trio.” Pumbaa pointed out. 

“Can’t let go of the past, can you, Pumbaa? How many times I gotta tell ya we’re a duo again? We gotta sing like one!” Timon all but caterwauled as he flipped himself onto his back. Where he flung an arm over his eyes in dramatic fashion. “Can’t leave room for our little cub’s dulcet tenor anymore, ‘cause he’s off playing with a kingdom’s future!”

“I wonder if the whole pride of lions sing? Maybe they do choral arrangements on their off days?” Mused the warthog. Prompting the meerkat to sit up and give the up close face an unimpressed look. 

“Pumbaa?”

“Hm?”

“We’re having a pity party here. Maybe let’s tone down the admiration for the thing that took our son from us?”

“We had a _son_?” Pumbaa asked. Shock evident. 

“Really? What have we been talking about for the past two minutes?” Timon asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh... Simba having moved on with his life and the crushing loneliness we feel at not having him around anymore?” Pumbaa asked.

“Good. We’re on the same page then,” Timon said, resting his head once again on the snout beneath him. Staring up at the stars the three of them used to gaze at. Together.  
“You think he’s lookin’ up at the same sky, thinkin’ ‘bout his dear old dads like we’re thinkin’ about him?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure there’s only one sky _to_ look at.”

“Pumbaa, _work_ with me here,” Timon beseeched, sitting back up to look the befuddled warthog in the eye. 

“Uh... yes then?”

Timon fell into a deep slouch at the response. “You’re no fun tonight. I’m gonna go find a midnight snack.” And with that, the little meerkat hopped off his warthog’s snout and disappeared into the tall grass to one side. 

“Timon?” Came Pumbaa’s perplexed call. A call that went unanswered except by the sound of rustling plants as one half of the dynamic duo moved farther and farther away from their little clearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, Timon, come back! Or at least don’t go too far! Pumbaa’s lonely!  
Hope anybody who stumbled across this and read it also enjoyed it! And if’n you did, no worries, I should have part 2 up in a few days! :D


	2. Pumbaa’s Fright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s after dark, so Pumbaa doesn’t like Timon going off alone like he did. After all, they do live in a jungle.

Pumbaa sat, then stood, then sat, then stood, then paced back and forth, then sat, on and off for several minutes. All while facing the last spot he’d seen his friend. A friend who, for some reason Pumbaa wasn’t quite sure about, was unhappy with him. 

He understood that sometimes Timon needed his space, or other times needed exactly the opposite, mostly the opposite actually, but he still didn’t like it when his buddy took off on his own like that.  
The jungle could be a real... jungle, and for someone as small and tuskless as his meerkat obviously was, that meant predators wouldn’t look twice before licking their lips and planning a scrumptious-

Nope. Pumbaa shook his head and stood once more. Nothing bad was going to happen that night. Nothing bad was even _threatening_ to happen.  
...But, just in case; he was gonna go sniff out Timon and make sure all the little guy found out there in the wilderness was a nest full of tasty grubs. 

Pumbaa was just as good in the underbrush as Timon and his snout helped him pick up a scent even better, so he figured it wouldn’t take any time at all until he was back to —for reasons he still hadn’t figured out— annoying his friend. 

With a determined snort, the nominally worried warthog pushed aside the first few stalks of grass and gave a double sniff. Catching the hint of residual smell left by a pair of meerkat feet where they’d left tiny imprints in the loamy soil between the blades. 

Following the scent when he couldn’t see the tracks, and the tracks when the scent grew faint, Pumbaa made sure to stick his head above the tops of the grass now and then in case he could catch sight of Timon that way.  
No such luck so far, he kept up the search for a couple more careful minutes before he looked up and found that he’d followed the trail up a sloping incline to the top of a long boulder.  
Giving a good sniff, he found evidence that a meerkat had perched in that exact spot for a while, then moved a little to one side, then the other. As if deciding which way to go next.  
And then the trail stopped. Cold. No amount of sniffing was pulling up any more hint of Timon, but- 

Pumbaa snorted when he caught another scent on a slight breeze: Monkey. 

His ears twitched before his eyes did at the sound of three feet hitting solid ground.  
A four limbed, one tailed creature appeared to have just left the cover of the tall grass with something squirming- with _Timon_ squirming in its one free hand as it tore its way for the tree line.  
Pumbaa made out a wicked set of teeth glinting in the starlight when the wiry, top heavy creature turned to glance back at him. Before it dove into the cover of the thickly rooted and vined undergrowth of the jungle. 

Pumbaa heard more than felt the enraged squeal that accompanied his leap to the ground. Barely noticed the earth being torn to ribbons when his sharp, cloven hooves dug for traction as he hit speeds he rarely even _tried_ for. 

He could make out the exact spot where the ruffian had disappeared with his friend, a few low branches and twigs still swaying when Pumbaa himself hit the tree line, so he dove headlong in after them. Taking in a desperate lungful as he bust through the initial foliage. Snorting when he memorized the newcomer’s scent and recognized Timon’s mixed along with it. A dash of fear flavoring the meerkat’s usually carefree odor. 

Knowing his friend was scared pushed Pumbaa to squeeze his body through openings of sizes he would usually have thought twice about trying. Remembering how the little meerkat had been fighting to be free of his snatcher’s grasp caused the edges of Pumbaa’s vision to blur and take on a red haze. Effectively cutting out the frightening distractions of his fast in passing surroundings. 

He could make out the retreating form, above him in the branches, then next to him in the scrub, then directly in front of him, all the while moving _just_ faster. 

“Aaaahh!”

The meerkat’s shout of distress did nothing to calm the warthog on the warpath, and Pumbaa let out another lung busting squeal as he jumped over a fallen tree. Having to scramble when he misjudged the height and landed on top instead of on the other side. 

Making the jungle floor again, and avoiding a patch of thorny brambles, Pumbaa saw a light up ahead and realized that the beast attempting to escape with his terrified best friend was headed straight for it. 

So he tucked his tusks as far out of the way as he could and bust his way through the remaining vegetation without looking back up. 

He made it out into the open only a second behind the monkey to find it holding his friend up in front of its spindly, grey and blue body.  
Smart. The brute knew Pumbaa wouldn’t charge if there was a chance he could hit Timon at the same time.  
At least the red was receding from the corners of his vision at the confirmation that Timon was alright. Till now, at least. 

“You better let the meerkat down, nice and easy,” Pumbaa said, in his most intimidating tone. Expression hard. 

“Heehee, or what? What will you do?” Asked the mandrill. Flashing its fangs once again. 

“Or we’re gonna find out what happens when an angry pig catches a friend-snatching monkey.”

The only sound for a pregnant two seconds was the soft rippling of some nearby water, then a noise similar to the one one hears when a big worm was bitten into sounded and the mandrill jumped with a sound of pained surprise. Large hand spasming around the meerkat before tossing the little guy.

Pumbaa scrambled forward, double time when his hooves informed him the ground was made entirely of hard rock, and slid into the perfect position to catch his friend mere inches above the ground.  
Never had Pumbaa felt so grateful for having been gifted with a strong set of tusks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, nice catch Pumbaa! Do what you gotta do to keep your meerkat safe!  
Hope anyone reading is having as good a time as me! And no worries once again, because part 3 should also be up within a few days!


	3. The Gift

“Ow! He bit me!” The incredulous words that broke Pumbaa’s reverie at the close up sight of his best friend cradled safe and sound in the crook of his trusty tusks. 

The warthog looked up and across at the one responsible for all of this; the mandrill hopping around, switching between sucking at and shaking the hand he’d used to drag Timon off against his will.   
“You’ll get worse if you don’t scram, and I mean **now**,” Pumbaa informed. 

“Is that any way to talk to a friend?” Asked the colorful face of pure evil. 

“Hey, wait just a second,” demanded a Timon who seemed to be getting over his fright pretty quickly. Disentangling himself from the protective curve of Pumbaa’s tusks with the help of tiny hands that were barely shaking any more. “You’re the monkey what lured Simba back to the glamor and fame of the high life out on the savannah, aren’t ya?” He asked, moving forward and shaking an unhappy finger at his abductor. 

Pumbaa allowed himself another, no longer red clouded look at the wiry figure before them.   
The light afforded by the stars was pretty weak, but with his adrenaline starting to level out, he thought he was able to make out the mandrill’s specific face pattern of blue and red and a wreath of mature, white hair around its neck.   
“Rafiki?”

“In this sacred place, you would bite and threaten an old friend?” The one with the opposable thumbs asked. Pointing a disappointed look at the accused in turn. 

“Well how was I supposed to know it was you?! I never saw you till just now; you snatched me off that rock then dragged me through the jungle so fast I didn’t know which way was up!” Timon said. Striking an indignant pose. Which Pumbaa mirrored when he moved to stand even with the meerkat. Not liking the way seeing his friend a few feet ahead and out in the open made him feel. 

Timon protected from at least one side now, Pumbaa could give thought to their current situation freely.   
“Are you gonna turn us into frogs?”

The other two in the open space said nothing to that. Only stared at him with marginally shocked blank expressions. 

“Uh, well, if you’re _not_,” Pumbaa started, “and you’re also not here to eat us, then what _are_ you doing here?”

“Yeah, what the pig said. Explain yourself, monkey,” Timon insisted. 

“I think the better question is, what are **you** doing here? Hm?”

“We _just_ got through that part! You dragged me here-“

“And I followed you because you dragged him here,” finished Pumbaa. Stomping one hoof against the bedrock so that it put a nice period on the sentence. 

“Well, alright then.” Said the monkey, with a sniff. “Because I _was_ rude —I can see that now— and because I know how to avoid infection, I will not hold the viscous bite against you,” Rafiki said in a generous voice. Holding the bitten hand balled against his chest protectively. 

“Yeah, and now I know it’s you: Heh heh, sorry ‘bout the nibble there. I was out findin’ a midnight snack and then... all of a sudden, I thought I might **become** one.” 

Pumbaa looked down at his friend at the admission. Taking note of the way the meerkat was rubbing both of his own arms. Almost as if trying to stave off a chill. Or maybe give himself a hug.   
When the warthog sensed movement, he shifted his eyes back to Rafiki and gave a warning snort. But the mandrill paid the dangerous sound no mind and approached the pair of them like he’d come to their stomping grounds on a friendly visit and was only now getting around to a proper ‘hello’.

“Timon, Pumbaa,” he started, looking between the two of them. “I apologize for _how_ I introduced myself this evening.”

“You mean, how you _didn’t_ introduce yourself?” Timon interjected. 

Rafiki bowed his head slightly in acceptance. “I realize now that I should have gone about getting you here differently. But-“

“I knew there was a but-”

“There’s always a butt-“

“I am now more sure than even before of your admirable skills as protectors.” Timon and Pumbaa glanced at each other in mute surprise at the uncharacteristic compliment. “Braving the jungle with both cunning and strength,” Rafiki said, with a nod towards the largest of the group, “and biting deeply into my hand,” he finished, nodding to the smallest. 

“Yeah, did I mention how sorry I was ‘bout that?” Timon said while giving the back of his neck a scratch. 

“It is fine. What is in the past, is in the past.”

“Yeah, but that looks like it hurts **now**,” said Timon, indicating Rafiki’s abused hand. 

“Eh, what is a little pain between friends?” Asked the eldest of the group. Coming close to lay an affectionate touch on both of the youngers’ heads. 

“Eh-heh, riiigghht. So long as we’re good?” Timon asked.

“We are most certainly good,” the monkey said. Musing the tufts of hair on his friend’s heads. 

Pumbaa could smell the faint scent of blood coming from the hand on which Timon had most certainly broken the mandrill’s skin. Still resting on top of his head the way it was.   
He snorted to get the violent bouquet out of his snout. Only a moment before Rafiki plucked a hair from his head and hopped back a ‘safe’ distance. 

“Hey!” Timon said from beside him. “What ya go and do that for?!” He asked, massaging his own head. 

“Heehee! It is part of your present!” Said the-

“Crazy monkey!”

-as he held out the two hairs rather pointlessly. Seeing as no one could make them out in their current level of moon lighting.   
Next Rafiki moved over to a boulder and removed an empty tortoise shell from behind it. Then, placing both hairs in the bowl, cackling as he did, the maned manic hopped around the idyllic bedrock clearing, plucking things from plants and scraping pebbles out from crags and tossing it all together in his weird shell thingy. 

“What’re ya doin’ now?” Demanded Timon. 

“Asking a question.” Came the unsatisfactory reply. 

“Well, alright,” Timon said while pushing on Pumbaa’s shoulder. Angling him toward the jungle. “We’ll just be on our way then. Been... nice catching up, but we’ve got some serious sleep to catch up on next, so toodleoo!” 

“Don’t you want your present?” The admittedly tantalizing question got the duo to stop and give the strange ape their full attention once again.   
“Because... the offer was tentative before, but now,” he said, checking with the contents of his bowl, “it’s for certain!”

“Huh?”

“Come again?”

Rafiki rehid the old tortoise home and walked around behind the two he’d bamboozled into coming wherever ‘here’ was, where he put a hand on a shoulder each and directed them toward the soft sounds of water.   
“Come, come, come; you follow old Rafiki. He’ll show you something.”

So they let him take them near a minuscule pond, where he directed Pumbaa up a several foot high rocky perch and Timon right on up to the water’s edge. Then the monkey who was likely considerably older than he looked asked them to, “Look,” and pointed at the pristine surface. 

“Huh?”

“What? Where?” The two of them asked. Looking this way and that across the tiny body of water. 

So Rafiki pointed **straight** down at the water by the bank for clarification. “Look. You are one.” To which, the both of them finally peered down into the virtually undisturbed waters of the grass lined pond. 

From each of their vantages, the picture that stared back at them was the same: One face, half meerkat, half warthog, all-

“Creepy. That’s just creepy.”

“I’m not sure that’s natural,” Pumbaa said. Sounding supremely uncomfortable. “What’d you do to that poor guy?” He asked, taking a quick glance over at the mandrill. 

Rafiki covered his face with one hand. Probably ashamed of what he’d done.   
“You two are missing the _entire_ point.”

“What? What point?” Asked Timon. 

“Did this guy _ask_ to be like that?” Asked Pumbaa. 

“Or was it _two_ poor saps you stuck together to make **one** freak?” Timon questioned. Unable to tear his eyes from the picture. 

“Oh...” Rafiki said, wiping the hand down his face before going on. “I spoke to Mufasa, and the Kings and Queens of the past and they agreed that you two... responsible gentlemen did a wonderful job raising Simba. He is handling his responsibilities with aplomb and sound judgment and they all agree that no small amount of credit is due to the individuals who brought him to adulthood.”

“You mean _us_?” Asked Timon. 

“I think he does,” answered Pumbaa, glancing over to the wise monkey in time to see a solemn nod. 

“They have decided to gift you with a child all your own.”

“Uh-huh,” said Timon as he finally managed to turn away from the reflecting pool. “And, uh, how, _exactly_, is that gonna work?”

Rafiki gave a shrug. 

“I don’t find that very reassuring,” informed Pumbaa. Walking back down the rock to join Timon. Who was walking to stand within talking distance of the mandrill who’d brought them there in the first place. 

“All that the spirits —in their everlasting wisdom— told me, is that you will know this child by its disposition. And,” Rafiki continued, with an amused expression, “that if that does not cut it; because it will answer to the name Chiedza.”


	4. A Chance Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow y’all, this story’s gotten way more love than I was expecting! Thanks for all the positive vibes and awesome compliments! They fuel my writing center and keep me smiling all day! XD

“Hey, Pumbaa?”

“Hm?”

“You think that old coot was playin’ some sort of whacked out practical joke on us? Or you thinkin’ he just might’a been serious last night?” Timon asked from his seat atop his best friend’s head. On lookout for a place to stop for breakfast. 

“Uh, he doesn’t seem the type for practical jokes to me, Timon.” Pumbaa said, paying attention to the ground they were traveling to be sure he wouldn’t get tripped up. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Must’ve eaten a bad banana; didn’t even know what he was doing. Probably waking up in some tree he’s never seen before, wondering why he’s got a set of teeth marks in one hand,” Timon mused. Trying not to feel too accomplished at what he’d managed against a full grown mandrill. 

“Do bananas _do_ that?”

“It’s not so much that they **do** that so much as that they _can_ do that, Pumbaa, my charmingly ignorant friend.”

“Oh,” Timon heard as his ride sidestepped a rock. 

“Yep. I don’t know what you’d do without-“

“Did you hear that?” Timon found himself cut off by the concern tinted question. Instead of getting huffy over it though, he listened in to the surrounding ambiance, hoping to answer in the positive. 

It was faint but couldn’t have been coming from all that far off, considering Timon could hear _pebbles_ clattering on hard packed dirt and what might have been the sound of some sort of claw or hoof scratching the ground.  
Neither were notoriously loud sounds after all. 

“Should we see what it is?” Pumbaa asked, concern doubled.

“Psh! It’s not like we’re the jungle police! We’re just out for a little breakfast. Don’t need to go sticking our noses into other animal’s problems,” Timon said, giving Pumbaa’s ears a tug in a direction he figured the noise _wasn’t_ coming from. 

“But what if we help and whoever it is wants to share a delicious breakfast with us? As thanks?” Offered the warthog. Seeming to prefer to not move at all rather than go either with or against Timon’s suggestion at that point. 

“Of all the- Pumbaa, listen to yourself! To think that an animal might wanna- Wait!” Said Timon, jumping to the ground and holding his arms out in an ‘ah-ha’ pose. “What if we end up helpin’ someone out and they wanna share a tasty breakfast with us? As thanks!”

Timon took off _in_ the direction of the noise that time. Catching the beginning of a confused look on Pumbaa’s face before he was pushing his way through the short, dry grass of their current hunting grounds; quite engrossed with tracking the sounds to their source. 

Popping through to a clearing that had a sizable scrub tree but was otherwise devoid of vegetation, Timon spotted a cloud of dust near the opposite grass line. Near the tree’s trunk.  
Wary of the fact that honey badgers occasionally rolled through the area, Timon skirted the perimeter as he moved far enough around to see what could possibly be kicking up all that dust. 

He rolled his eyes when he saw Pumbaa walking straight through the clearing without a care in the world. Obvious as ever.  
When The warthog wasn’t suddenly pounced upon by anything with sharp claws and deadly fangs, Timon sauntered over to have a look for himself. 

It wasn’t a honey badger. Thankfully. But aside from that, Timon really wasn’t sure of much else about it.  
The coloration, for starters, was strange for something that had spindly little legs with cloven hooves at the ends. Then again, only the back end was visible, sticking as it was out of a neat hole in the mounded ground surrounding the tree trunk. And by the looks of it, whoever this was didn’t have experience extricating themselves from burrows, because they were going about it all wrong. Just scrabbling around at random and kicking dust in every direction.  
The sheer hopelessness was somehow endearing. Made Timon wanna lend a hand even if it wasn’t gonna get him an invitation to breakfast. Although, he was still holding out hope for that part. 

“Hey, uh, buddy? You need some help there?” Timon started, each word getting louder until the tiny pair of legs stopped their flailing. 

There was a muffled sound neither of them could make out in response. 

“Are ya stuck?”

“Pumbaa, I think that part is pretty obvious,” Timon chided. 

“Oh yeah. Uh, would you like some help getting _unstuck_?” 

“Pumbaa, wouldn’t _you_?”

“Oh. Right.” 

So, not sure the shape of the rest of this relatively small, hoofed creature, Timon dug away some from the sides of the hole and Pumbaa used his tusks to carve away some of the blocked opening above their new, stuck acquaintance. 

“Alright,” Timon started, directing his voice through the wiggle room he’d made on one side. “We’re gonna give ya a little tug now. _Please_, don’t kick us. Especially not me,” he added when he thought he heard a noise of assent.  
“Okay, here we go on one, two, _three_!” 

And out popped one of the filthiest creatures it had ever been Timon’s luck to meet. The front half being so entirely coated in dirt that he couldn’t even tell where the eyes were until they blinked open.  
“Pumbaa, wanna give our little friend here a dusting off?”

“Ooh, it’d be my pleasure! Hold still,” said Pumbaa, moving up close to the dirt clod. “Might wanna close your eyes first,” he warned. Waiting until they were shut tight to breath in a hearty lungful of fresh air, then snort it all out at once. 

The very round, as it turned out, individual ended up flopping over in the gust, but hopped right back up with a cry of excitement when it realized it was-  
“Clean! I’m not stuck anymore and I’m clean! Yay!” It said. Kicking up its hind legs in delight.

If Timon didn’t know any better, he’d have pegged the youngster as an off color piglet.  
But, come to think of it, hearing the little squeal of jubilation and the ensuing snorts of laughter, it kinda _had_ to be some sort of piglet. A freakish one, with a shock of bright orange hair, a dark brown snout, and skin about the color of Timon’s fur.  
Didn’t look like any warthog he’d ever seen. Not even a baby one. Though it was roughly the right size for that particular species. 

“Uh, how’d you get stuck there in the first place?” Pumbaa asked. Going for the obvious question. 

The off color thing settled down enough to look the two of them in the face before saying, “I don’t know. All of a sudden, I was stuck.”

Suddenly thinking about how much someone would miss a kid as sweet as this one, Timon thought it might be best for them to part and leave the thing where they’d found it. In case someone big and imposing was frantically searching for it.  
“Well alright then.” He started, nonchalant as he could. “Sorry for the loss of your time, kid, been nice helpin’ ya out. Now _we’re_ gonna go find us some grub,” he said with a gesture to his big red friend. “Hope the rest of your life treats ya better than that,” Timon said, a thumb indicating the hole they’d pulled the probable piglet from. 

Pumbaa put a hoof on his shoulder before Timon could turn away and fixed him with a ‘that was rude’ look.  
Timon rolled his eyes and faced forward again, knowing _Pumbaa_ would accept no less than him inviting the kid along for breakfast. 

“Maybe I could find some ‘grub’ of my own,” the kid suggested, before Timon had a chance to open his mouth. “Hey, that’s a great idea! Glad I thought of it,” the admittedly adorable little creature said to itself before tottering off into the low, dry grass. 

“Aaawww, can we keep ‘em?” Asked Pumbaa with his most endearing head tilt. 

“I don’t know! Who is this kid anyhow?!” Timon asked of no one in particular. Balling his hands in his hair with the stress of the unknown until a little piece of conversation from the previous night came to mind.  
“Chiedza?”

The round little back stopped its endearing forward bounce and the kid turned back to face them.  
“Yeah?”

“_You’re_ Chiedza?” Timon asked. Astonished that a single thing the crazy monkey told them might just be true. 

“Mmhm. And I’m **hungry**,” the little thing informed with a smile just big enough to expose a teeny tiny pair of tusks beginning to come in. 

Timon felt a twinge at the sight. It was unbelievably cute. 

“Well, no reason we couldn’t go grub hunting _together_, right?” Pumbaa asked. Glancing between the roly poly ball of excitement and his meerkat best friend. All anticipation. 

“Yeah! And we can all share!” Said Chiedza, kicking up a dust cloud as the tiny terror went tearing off in a random direction. Which just so happened to lead him right back where he’d started.  
“Maybe _you_ could lead the way? Huh. Another good idea! Glad I thought of it,” the kid said as the three of them took off in search of breakfast. 

~

The sound of a tiny snout making the most adorable snorting noises Timon had ever heard kept pulling his attention from ‘lookout and find grub’ duty. Well enough that, eventually he gave up altogether and decided Pumbaa could find it on his own anyway. What with his fine tuned, adult snout being the perfect bug finding tool and it never having failed them before.  
So he turned to look down at the kid from his seat up high on Pumbaa’s head and gave a smile when his eyes were met by round, curious ones.  
“So, uh, kid, where’d you come from?” Timon asked. Hoping he wasn’t gonna have to fend off a larger version of the tyke from squishing, stomping, or eating him for being so close to their baby. 

“Mmm... that hole I guess,” said the mostly beige creature. 

“Yeah, I kinda guessed for that far back, but where before then?” Timon asked. One eyebrow raised. 

“Mm. Farther down the hole?” Said the kid, sounding less sure than the last time. 

“Okay; natural progression of events. That’s nice,” Timon said with a smile. Before leaning close to Pumbaa’s ear to whisper, “It’s like going a few rounds with _your_ brilliant sense of logic.”

“Huh?”

“My point exactly.” Then Timon straightened and looked back to their new buddy. “You got... anyone who looks out for you?”

The tiny hog blinked once, given pause by the question. But it was only a beat before the piglet was smiling up at Timon again, ready with the answer. “You and you! You’re lookin’ out _for_ me! For grubs!”

“Okay. That’s nice, kid. That’s just peachy.”

~

At long last the three of them found a spot that looked promising; lots of old fallen trees and a smattering of small boulders in the squelchy, loamy earth. Even a little wallow worthy patch of mud off to one side. Perfect for finding worms.  
So Timon hopped down from his lookout position on Pumbaa’s head and struck a pose. “Alright, boys, this is where we start digging!” 

A couple of excited shouts and whoops from his posse later, Timon found himself wondering over something he’d just said. So he turned to study the form of their tag along. Eventually figuring there was no harm to be done in out and asking what was on his mind.  
“Hey, uh, Chiedza?” 

“Hm?”

“Are you a boy or a girl or... somethin’ like that?” He asked. Finding he wasn’t quite sure how to once he’d started. 

The face of concentration lasted longer than Timon would have expected, before the tyke looked back to him with a question of its own.  
“Are you?”

“Eh heh, we are most certainly boys,” Timon explained. Pointing to himself and to Pumbaa in turn. 

“Then that’s what I am! Heehee, and now I’m gonna find some grub!”

“Eh, buddy, before you get ahead of yourself; do you know _how_ to find grubs?” At the adorable double blink that got him, Timon was pretty sure ever saying goodbye to this kid would just break his heart. So he mentally kicked himself for letting his soft psyche get attached; made a note to someday thank that crazy monkey, if the fool actually had anything to do with this; and put an arm over as much of Chiedza’s neck as he could reach and began explaining the first and perhaps most crucial lesson in grub hunting: Location, location, location.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name Chiedza means light. I thought Timon and Pumbaa deserved another light of their lives! :D  
Hope everyone enjoyed the cutie and the new chapter!


	5. Rafiki Drops By

Rafiki sat in the crook of a branch, high up in a large leafed tree, watching the... ‘interesting’ choices for recipients of such a precious gift from the great spirits of the past ready their gift for its first night of sleep. 

It was reassuring to see the care the pair took in selecting both a comfortable _and_ well defendable location in which to bed down. Arranging the grass that was to be their beds, and the occasional palm leaf, in almost a triangle formation. No doubt so each would be close to the other as the early night turned to late night and eventually to morning. 

Watching the care spent by the nincompoo- eh, the _honorable_ warriors, Rafiki found himself wishing he’d had the opportunity to see his Prince Simba be taught and cared for and helped to reach maturity. Here if not in the new King’s rightful home. 

As it was, he would settle for observing the pair’s parenting techniques their second time around. Couldn’t be all that different from the first after all. Most animals _were_ creatures of habit. 

“Hey, Chiedza?” The question caught Rafiki’s attention, so he focused on the meerkat who had asked it. 

“Yeah, Timon?” Asked the nearly snoozing babe as the parents made sure the grass was indeed as comfortable as possible. 

“Ya mind me callin’ ya Chi Chi? Two syllables instead of... a tough two and a half,” the small parent asked. Not a single shred of shame to his voice as he defied the will of the great spirits of the past.  
Trying to change a divine name? Rafiki had _never_-

“I _like_ it!” Rafiki’s eyes went wide as the blessed child agreed to the proposed blasphemy. “Can I call you Timon? Ooh, and, Pumbaa: can I call you Pumbaa?!” 

“Eh-heh, kid, you already _do_,” reminded the meerkat. 

“Yeah, and we like it too,” the warthog said in a gentle tone Rafiki hadn’t known the largest of the group was capable of. 

“Yay! We **all** have names!” Then the two nincompoo- eh, _capable_ parents tucked their divine gift in with a lullaby which, understandably, sounded just a little bit rusty. Like it had been years since they’d given it a recitation. 

Rafiki listened and enjoyed the little song, but most of his mind was occupied with the travesty which he had just witnessed.  
The shaman took some comfort in the knowledge that at least _one_ animal in Chiedza’s life was going to honor the child’s birthright by abstaining from the use of that... ‘nickname’. Even if that animal was himself. And, he thought with a rueful shake of his head, since the child _liked_ the nickname, just himself would have to do. 

Soon after the munchkin had nodded off, but before the adults could follow suit, Rafiki descended to the jungle floor and approached the group. Having decided that the naming incident was in the past and that there was nothing he could do about it anyway, he allowed his expression to shift to a natural smile. Pleased to find he was still eager to exchange words with both Timon And Pumbaa. Even if they _were_ blasphemers.  
Within a stick’s toss, he started straight in with business. 

“So, how was your first day-“

“Ah!”

“Waaaahhh!” 

“-together?”

Rafiki shook his head in a fond manner as the meerkat and the warthog composed themselves. Having been taken completely by surprise by his surprise visit. 

“Geez, you gotta start _announcing_ your ‘dropping by’s, because I’m not sure how much more of that my heart can take,” said Timon, one hand splayed dramatically across his chest. 

“Uh, you might wanna step back,” Pumbaa said to the mandrill. “I, uh, get gassy with surprises.”

“Pumbaa, with you, everything is gas,” Timon said, without any real seriousness. To which, Pumbaa looked somewhat reassured. 

“Any problems in your first-“

“No, and to answer your first question:” Timon said, adjusting his stance before continuing. At a much higher volume. “You and all those Kings and Queens you were talkin’ up last night can pry that precious piglet from my cold dead hands for all I care! You’ll never take him while I’m alive!” The tiny biped informed. Hands balled into fists which were held up in a threatening configuration. 

“Uh, Timon? I don’t think that’s why Rafiki’s here, is it Mr. Monkey?”

With a smothered smile, the advisor to a royal lineage gave his head another shake and glanced at the heavens above.  
“You are correct, Mr. Warthog.“

“Uh, that’s not my last name.”

“I am only here to see how things are going. No one is threatening to take sweet little Chiedza away from you. I swear it on this lovely scar you have given me,” Rafiki assured, gesturing to the place the meerkat had bitten him only the night before. 

“Hey, scars don’t happen that fast! What gives?” Demanded Timon. Perhaps upset to see his handiwork sullied so soon. 

“I told you I knew how to handle it,” Rafiki reminded with a giggle. 

“Eh, whatever. The kid’s sleeping, so keep it down with the chuckles.” 

“He’s so _cute_ when he’s sleeping,” Pumbaa cooed. “Although, he’s cute while he’s awake too,” he added, in all fairness. “Ooh, and also when he eats! And when he wallows in mud! Ya know,” said the pig, looking to Rafiki, “Simba never wallowed. I still don’t know how he never got a sunburn.”

“Oh, life is mysterious in that way,” said the mandrill. In his best sagely tone. 

“Uh-huh, that’s his way of saying ‘beats me’,” said the meerkat. Leaning in close to his friend in obvious hopes that Rafiki wouldn’t hear. 

“Well, it is clear the three of you have indeed enjoyed your first hours,” Rafiki said. Suddenly feeling that his errand was complete and that he was no longer needed in this part of the Out Lands. “Great spirits willing, when I return, it will be to see that your bond as a family has only grown.” At the suspicious glance the unlikely pair shared, Rafiki chuckled, and took a bow. Announcing his departure but a moment before he hopped into the nearest tree. Ready to be back to the Pride Lands and to his baobab tree. And, admittedly, looking forward to the next time the Kings and Queens of the past nudged him to visit their strange little friends’ jungle home. 

With one more glance spared for the proud second time around parents, Rafiki turned tail and made good time on his return to his usual stomping grounds. Hoping the next visit wouldn’t add yet another scar to his... mature body.  
He had enough without a protective meerkat and warthog taking chunks out of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again y’all, the response has been amazing and I can’t thank you enough for all of the kind and encouraging words! Every one of you beautiful readers absolutely makes my day!


	6. Chi Chi In Charge

After the ‘evening’ visit Rafiki had laid on them, the two guardians had a bit of a time getting to sleep. Thankfully not quite as hard a time _staying_ asleep, but that probably had something to do with the absolute dog pile their carefully laid out sleeping plan somehow ended up. With Pumbaa basically acting as the mattress to two extremely comfortable mammals until well into the morning hours.  
Wasn’t until the grown warthog’s stomach rumbled and he turned onto his side that anyone rolled themselves out of bed. Though, in this case, it was more of a rolling _off_ of bed. 

“What a wake up call! Give a guy a warning next time, will ya?” Timon demanded, rubbing at his head and wishing that that hadn’t just happened. 

“Oh. Sorry,” Pumbaa said with a sheepish grin. Moving his hooves to wave at the air as if it were the offensive party. 

“Not the gas, Pumbaa; the part where _we’re_ all of a sudden on the ground!” Timon corrected. 

“Chi Chi doesn’t seem to mind,” Pumbaa pointed out. Perhaps hoping to calm Timon from his waking rankle. 

“You kiddin’? The poor kid’s traumatized! I mean, just look at-“ Timon’s mouth clicked shut as he looked over at their new child for the first time that morning. Fast asleep. A little smile accompanying the slumbering snorts of a good dream.  
“Okay, never mind. We’re all good. Except I’m **starving**,” said the meerkat, rubbing at his belly. “Let’s you and me find some grub.”

“What about Chi Chi?” Asked Pumbaa as Timon dusted himself off and began walking out of their comfy bed spaces. 

“We stay within earshot, he’ll sniff us out.”

“And if we stay within eye shot, he’ll find us for _sure_,” Pumbaa pointed out. Logic simple as ever. 

“Fine, we do it your way, Your Majesty,” Timon said with a mock bow. 

“Uh, I think you have me confused with somebody else,” the warthog said in an uncomfortable tone. 

Timon sighed as he straightened and turned to direct his large, tusked friend to an old, mossy log he wanted to check under. “Never mind, Pumbaa. I think we might’a found your ‘eye shot’ breakfast.”

~

Yep. Timon’s instincts were spot on, as always. The log’s underbelly _had_ been hiding a smorgasbord of nutritious creepy crawlies, wiggly worms, and even some fluffy button top mushrooms.  
All a growing piglet needed to keep happy. 

So they’d called over the scamp and made a meal of it. Then laid down for a post breakfast nap. 

~

Unlike with the first kid they’d raised, Hakuna Matata wasn’t a difficult concept for their newest live-in responsibility to get the hang of. In fact, the way he’d lay down for a nap at the drop of a hat and the fact that he didn’t understand the basic principles of **safety**, all meant Timon and Pumbaa could probably take lessons from the adorable little gift from above.  
Potential, _literal_ gift from above. 

About halfway through the day, Pumbaa’d decided that there weren’t enough good wallowing spots this part of the jungle. So he’d picked a patch of ground that looked like a good candidate and told Timon and Chi Chi that they could have fun exploring while he transformed the shaded place into a little slice of heaven. 

“Alright! See you later, Pumbaa!” Said the tyke as he bounced off with a willing, if not eager, Timon close on his tail. 

A Timon who was happy to be the one to introduce their kid to one of his favorite past times: Flower sniffing. 

“Flowers smell great!” Informed the tiny warthog who just so happened to be the same colors as his meerkat caretaker. A fact that Timon would never get over. Nor wrap his head around. 

“Yeah, fact of life, kid. Flowers are nature’s air fresheners. Why else ya think we set up shop in the _jungle_, of all places?”

“‘Cause the flowers make you happy ‘cause they make Pumbaa smell better?” 

“Huh. You catch on pretty quick there,” Timon said, giving his head a scratch. Not used to conversations going in quite that straight a line. 

“Hey, Timon?” Asked a piglet who, to the meerkat’s surprise, wasn’t where he’d been only half a second before. “Does _this_ flower smell good?”

The jungle’s premiere self appointed expert flower sniffer looked to where the adorably high voice had come, only for his brain to nearly stop altogether as he felt his eyes grow three sizes at the sight before them. The sight of a giant, toothed, flowery maw opening up as it reared back with clear intent to gobble up and swallow his precious-

“Chi Chi!” Timon yelled, as he dove forward and caught the piglet in a tuck and roll evasion. Coming to a stop just far enough away that when the carnivorous plant unstuck its massive teeth from where it’d lodged them right into the jungle floor, he wasn’t afraid of it coming back for a try number two.  
He still wiggled the both of them another body length away, just to be on the safe side. 

“Yay! Timon saved me!” Proclaimed the wriggly little oinker as he disentangled himself from the meetkat’s protecting embrace. Prancing a circle around the older animal as Timon schlepped his own sack of bones off the ground and gave his back a nice popping. 

“Oi, kid, do me a favor and remember that ugly face, yeah?” He said, pointing at the razor fang ringed bottomless pit hissing at them from several feet off.  
“That flower doesn’t like being sniffed, and it isn’t very friendly to little guys like us.” 

“I’ll remember! Thanks for not letting me be grub, Timon,” the last sentence delivered with such care it made the ensuing, gentle nuzzle to his _entire_ chest all the more precious.  
Yep. Timon had it bad. This kid was either gonna _make_ his life, or... Nah. He was gonna stick with the positives for now. 

So, holding back a drop of eye moisture, the relieved guardian put his arms as far around his child as they’d go and he took a second to just breathe in the love.  
“Yer welcome, Chi Chi. You’ll be welcome as long as I’m around. Just, maybe try tonin’ down the Hakuna Matata just a teeny bit there? For the sake of your poor old Timon’s heart,” he requested in his least harried, harried tone.

All he got in return was a giggle and a carefree smile which he somehow _knew_ carried an unconscious promised of many, **many** more near heart attacks in the fast encroaching future.  
For that smile though; he could probably live with that. 

~

Timon sat on a comfy rock off to one side and watched as the two most important hogs he was ever gonna have in his life wallowed themselves filthy in a Pumbaa made mud bed.  
He huffed in barely contained wonder at just how much fun the pair could have with a simple activity.  
At least Pumbaa was teaching their kid proper hygiene. Would really come in handy later on. 

Grateful that the gusto with which the pig and piglet were getting coated up for the rest of the day wasn’t getting _him_ coated as well, Timon allowed his mind to wander back to when Simba was only about Pumbaa’s size and would sit and joke with his meerkat parent while his warthog parent did his wallowing thing. Then the two of them would have a good laugh at the mud monster that’d replaced their baritone member. 

Timon sighed, knowing the others wouldn’t hear it over their splashing, and let himself miss his first son all over again.  
Then he breathed in a lungful of their happy new beginning and let his heart feel the joy of seeing Pumbaa finally have someone to share _his_ hobby with. 

It really was nice having a little one around again.

Sure, they still missed Simba like a butterfly misses its cocoon, and Timon knew deep down that they always would, but it wasn’t just the two of them against a big, empty jungle any more.  
Sure, they missed the easy, dulcet tones of their cub filling out their melodies and bringing up the complexities of sound offered only by a trio, but Chi Chi was teaching them all over again what fun could be had by listening to the prattle of someone who didn’t yet understand the joy of music.  
Or rather: One who was learning the joys of music _tomorrow_.

Yep. It was settled. Tomorrow would mark the start of a new era! The start of the newest group in town starring Timon, Pumbaa, and their adorable little piglet, Chi Chi!  
The jungle was gonna love them.


	7. About The Baby

Rafiki didn’t quite understand why it was he was getting all sorts of ‘signs’ pointing him back in the direction of the jungle. It wasn’t anything big either; just a stray broken twig here and there, pointing instead of its natural direction, off toward the desert that separated their slice of savannah from the luscious greens of their neighboring ecosystem. 

That, and Mufasa kept blowing him in that direction every time he tried to ignore the hints.  
He _knew_ it was that scamp Mufasa too because not a one of the other great spirits was ever as annoyingly tenacious as him. Joining the stars above did not necessarily change the monarch. Unfortunately. The shaman thought as a particularly stiff breeze threatened to throw all of his ceiling hung gourds out of order. Again. 

“Alright, alright, al_right_!” Rafiki shouted right into the gust. Taken aback by the way it nearly stole his breath from him.  
Mufasa was never that forceful unless circumstances... demanded so. 

“You think- Something has happened?” He asked. Waiting for an answer before getting worked up. 

The leaves of his home rustled in a way that Rafiki had long taken to mean ‘no’. That was comforting. 

“But you feel it is important I visit? Even though I left them, in good health, not a full two days ago?” He asked with hands on his hips. 

The leaves swayed in a distinctively ‘yes’ pattern. To which, Rafiki shook his head. Not looking forward to making the round trip journey for a second time in one week. But, knowing he was one of a very few and far between capable of acting as the spirit’s conduits to this plane, he knew he would simply need to trust in their judgment and do as was asked of him.  
“Alright. I’ll pay them a visit. How does setting off in the morning sound?”

That time, his gourds _did_ get all tangled up. In a way that unmistakably said, ‘You would have taken off _this_ morning if you’d listened **yesterday**.’

“Ah. So, now, then?” Rafiki asked with a wry tilt to his brow. 

Another ‘yes’ rustled his house and he turned his back on the breeze. In the playful way he had always taken the liberty of doing when he and his King had been in a goofing mood.  
“Fine, fine; I’m going, I’m going,” he said as he moved to detangle a few dangling things and grab his stick. 

Ready as he’d get for such a last minute request, he swung down from his home, squinted into the setting sun, and set out for another night of all travel and no sleep.  
Bolstered only by the fact that Mufasa and the great monarchs of the past had never before sent him on a wild goose chase and that it was unlikely they’d break from tradition this late in the game.  
Plus the warm tailwind helped him keep up the pace through the chilly, dune covered portion of he night. 

By morning, he could just about make out the jungle canopy. On the other side of the barren stretch of desert where little aside from vultures ever strayed. 

He sighed, giving the sky above one last wry smirk, and made his way through to find the happy trio he was tasked to visit. 

~

It was some past mid morning when Rafiki heard the happy... strains of a duo who sounded like they might have been leaving room in their singing for another party to join in.  
Perhaps they still hadn’t figured out how to sing without their long time third member. After all, King Simba was off fulfilling his inheritance and doing an admirable job of maintaining balance and keeping the peace. Largely between the remaining members of the pride still loyal to the current, established line of monarchy and the faction of lioness who had been loyal to _their_ ‘rightful King’, Scar. From whom, they believed Simba had usurped the throne. 

The unfortunately necessary banishments being handled with minimal injury, Rafiki had not been needed quite so much as one might expect following a new King taking power, so his absences would go ungrieved, if not unnoticed.  
Many thanks to small miracles. 

Making his way through the mid levels of the jungle canopy, following the singing he could almost _hear_ was ready to dip into melancholy at any moment, Rafiki pushed his way past a particularly dense bough of foliage and found himself directly above Timon and Pumbaa.  
What luck. 

Remembering the screaming from the last time he had paid a visit, and the bite from the time before that, he gave the trunk of the tree a knock, double checking the two had seen him before starting his climb down to ground level.

The singing stopped as soon as the pair looked up. Since the two appeared eager to get on with things, Rafiki decided to start with attempting to find the reason for his being back out there so soon.  
“So, how is she?”

“She who?” Timon’s face scrunched at the simple question. As if it was somehow quite incongruous. 

“Who is this ‘she’ you speak of?” Pumbaa asked. Also seeming very confused. 

“Oh, you know ‘she who’,” the mandrill informed them. “The beautiful baby girl who the Kings and Queens who watch over and guide us have bequeathed you.” At the empty blinks that won him, the monkey tried again.  
“Chiedza.”

“Ooooooh. That- that’s, uh. Yeah, about that,” Timon started, after a quick glance shared with the other parent of the group. “Chi Chi’s a boy.”

“Yeah, he told us so,” Pumbaa confirmed with a nod. 

“Oh! Ha, I must have misread what the spirits were saying! Oh ho ho!” Came a bout of laughter at the unexpected correction.  
Soon as he got his diaphragm back under his control, Rafiki started from the beginning. Once again hoping to discover the reason for his newest assignment from above.  
“So, how is he?”

“Oh, Chi Chi’s doin’ great!” The meerkat enthused. “He learned how to wallow and he’s _lovin’_ it.”

“He’s got Hakuna Matata down better than _I_ do,” Pumbaa informed. Chest puffed in pride. “And he’s always willing to share if he finds a really big, slimy grub!”

“_That_, my dear Pumbaa, would be because the slimy specimen are inferior to the delicate deliciousness of their far superior **crunchy** counterpart,” countered the meerkat. Seemingly ready for a confrontation. 

Rafiki primed himself for a large step back when the two parents squared off, an argument on the very near horizon.  
Thankfully, the butting of heads did not have a chance to begin in earnest. 

“Timon?” Came a strained, young voice. From somewhere just out of sight. 

“We’re over here, Chi Chi!” The meetkat called back. Stance relaxing to something resembling casual once again. 

“Um, I think something’s wrong with... the world,” came the sweet voice again. From the same distance off. 

“You’re tellin’ me, kid. That’s why we live away from it all, here in the beautiful jungle,“ Timon reminded. 

“I think it’s spinning faster than usual- whoa!” The three adults out of eye shot heard the little cry of surprise followed directly by a thump. As if someone between Pumbaa and Timon’s size had fallen over. 

Wasting only the barest moment to glance between themselves for confirmation that they had in fact _all_ heard it, the troupe double timed it to where their smallest member had been speaking to them from. Shocked when they arrived to see that the spunky child had not picked himself up already. 

“Uh, you playin’ some kinda game there, Chi Chi?” Asked Timon, walking close. 

“Mrrmmh, nothing’s standing still like it’s s’posed to,” came the ominous reply. 

“What’s wrong, Chi Chi?” Asked Pumbaa. Obviously beginning to worry in earnest. 

“It’s hot _and_ cold... and dizzy _and_ tired,” came the statement that Rafiki made quick sense of, but wasn’t sure the other two understood. 

“I believe that our dear Chiedza is informing us that he is not well,” he said. Sorry there was bad news to break. 

~

After a period of near hysteria, on the parent’s part, Rafiki had his charge in a nest of cleaned and purified leaves and had _finally_ gotten the terrified meerkat and warthog to calm themselves to the point of sleep. Them having exhausted their reserves entirely with their incessant pacing and the like.  
All understandable. All unhelpful. **All** wholly regrettable. 

But as evening wore on closer and closer to night, the sun closer and closer to set, Rafiki felt even _his_ composure... weakening.  
What with Chiedza’s condition worsening regardless his attempts to evict whatever malevolent influences may have attached themselves in what little time the unique creature had spent unguarded. 

It was when Chiedza could no longer draw a casual breath that Rafiki grew genuinely worried. The wheezing weighing on his mind as something that no young one deserved to suffer. He could see it was even preventing the tiny warthog from the simple task of healing through rest.  
And when the mandrill who knew more about sickness and healing than any other animal in the jungle had to remind the piglet to relax and just breath, he finally allowed himself to contemplate the possibility of things _continuing_ at their current, alarming rate.  
It was not a pleasant thought. 

Unpleasant enough, in fact, that Rafiki stood and moved to lean against the nearest tree. In need of a moment alone. One in which he admitted to himself that he wasn’t going to be able to do this alone.  
He tilted his face heavenward in hopes of finding an answer in the yet sunset painted sky. 

“You would not send this child to live with your chosen warriors only to then take the thing most precious to them.” Rafiki knew this and spoke it aloud to reinforce his certainty. Yet, the thought still gave him pause and after a long moment’s contemplation spent with a warmth to his eyes that he knew it wasn’t his place to be feeling, he looked to the sky and did something he had long ago taken an oath _not_ to.  
“_Would_ you?”  
He questioned the heavens. 

In answer, something with little weight but a plenty hard exterior hit him upside the head —debris from a sudden gust of wind— and he snatched it before it could be swept away on the firm current.  
The air settling, Rafiki opened his hand to find two items caught within. One intact purple flower and a chip of burned bark. 

He rolled his eyes at himself for thinking that this was some sort of sign from the heavens. After all, what kind of message could he _possibly_ be meant to take from a little bell shaped flower and a bit of charcoal? 

No.

Rafiki’s heart skipped a beat as he looked again at the refuse in his hand. 

That was no ordinary flower. If his eyes did not deceive him, that was in fact a flower from a mature nightshade plant. A flower from the mature **deadly** nightshade plant. One that came in the form of a shrub that grew along the ground and most certainly was now in full bloom. Sporting irresistible, dark berries at perfect eye level for a child of Chiedza’s stature.

Wishing it weren’t so, Rafiki now knew that this terribly sick young one had, in the curious, capricious nature of youth, eaten part or the whole of a deceptively inviting poisonous plant. And that the great Kings and Queens of the past had somehow seen the event coming from over a full day ahead.  
Rafiki shook his head in shame at not having taken their warnings seriously. Now completely understanding Mufasa’s insistence that he leave the previous night. 

Armed with the knowledge he had needed most desperately; what had made Chiedza, a small child with no enemies, so very ill, Rafiki knew exactly what to do with the hunk of charcoal.

So, with an unexpected spark in his blood, the shaman found suitable rocks and fashioned a rudimentary mortar and pestle and began what he’d been sent there to do. Gathering a few other ingredients and grinding them together with the extremely helpful guiding gift of blackened wood. 

Medicinal paste prepared, the shaman turned to the child who’s breathing had not stopped in its becoming steadily more and more restricted and bent low over the ailing little body. Cure at the ready.  
With confidence behind the request, the mandrill asked the child to ‘open wide’. 

Chiedza was going to be fine. He was going to make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-Oh. O_o Poor everyone!


	8. Chi Chi In Trouble

Chi Chi decided that he liked it better when breathing was easy. Definitely. Wheezing didn’t let the air in fast enough and it was harder to do in the first place. So, not as much fun. 

When he tried to snort the bad feeling out, tired of it not going away on its own, a hand that reminded him of Timon’s but was _way_ bigger touched the whole side of his face. Making it feel a little warmer on the outside. 

“Shh, Chiedza. It is alright; just breath.”

Weird. Timon and Pumbaa didn’t say his whole name most of the time anymore, but maybe they hadn’t told... _this_... visitor?  
A visitor who was not done talking yet but who Chi Chi was done listening to. Not because it was boring, but because it was making him feel safe and sleepy.  
It was a voice Chi Chi thought he’d heard before. A funny one that made him want to laugh, even though it didn’t sound like it was _trying_ to be funny. 

Chi Chi didn’t laugh at it though. Partly because he was pretty sure laughing when someone wasn’t trying to be funny was at least a little mean, and other partly because he didn’t _feel_ like laughing. 

His outside felt cold and his inside felt too hot and it turned out he didn’t like the combination.  
His throat was scratchy and tight and complained every time he swallowed.  
If he opened his eyes, all he saw was... as if he was spinning in a circle. Even though he was lying still on a fluffy pile of leaves. Or sometimes _that_ plus Timon or Pumbaa looking at him, all worried and scared and Chi Chi didn’t like to see their faces that way. ‘Cause they were supposed to be happy to see him. Not scared.  
Plus, his tummy ached. So he _really_ didn’t feel like laughing. Might’ve liked to take a nap, but he liked to be comfy for naps, and right then, he wasn’t feeling comfy at all. 

But he definitely recognized that voice. Even though he had no idea who it belonged to. Chi Chi’d definitely heard it before and it was definitely friendly. Worried and maybe a little scared, but that’s how Timon and Pumbaa looked and they loved him, so whoever this was was safe. Otherwise, Timon would make them leave. 

Heehee. Chi Chi was pretty sure the funny voice was saying something again, but didn’t feel like trying hard enough to hear all the words. It was easier to just know they were there than to understand-  
A little pig brain jumped when the hand connected to the voice slipped something inside Chi Chi’s mouth. Maybe they thought he looked hungry and it was a snack?

Mm, nope. The flavor was bitter and icky and whatever it was was mashy and grainy and _definitely_ not something a piglet should be eating, so Chi Chi spit as much of it out as he could and shivered at the taste still left in his mouth. 

“Oh no you don’t. This is _important_, Chiedza,” the voice said, as if it was telling the truth. Even though what it said was definitely the biggest lie Chi Chi’d ever heard.  
That stuff wasn’t important; it was **bad**!

Listening more carefully, Chi Chi heard scraping noises and mumbling noises and worried mumbling noises and some plant squishing noises and then the sound of their visitor being next to him again. Leaning down to say, “This time, swallow. No spitting it back out.”

At the way the animal Chi Chi didn’t even know tried to _tell_ him what to do, like he was allowed to tell him to do stuff like Timon and Pumbaa were —which he definitely wasn’t—, Chi Chi lifted his head as far as it would go... and blew a raspberry. Right in a colorful, bigger than he was expecting face.  
Showed him. 

“Chiedza, this is _important_,” the face with the pouffy white fur all around it said in a way that _almost_ made Chi Chi want to believe it.  
As it was, he just laid his head back down and snorted in disbelief. Happy when he closed his eyes again and the world went back to only spinning slowly. 

“Stubborn- I had nearly forgotten the stubbornness of Children.” The funny animal said to himself. Stumped.  
“Chiedza, this is for your own good.”  
Uh-oh. That didn’t sound good. 

Nope. Not good, thought the sick little piglet when the big hand from earlier popped another helping of the same gunk from earlier into his mouth. Which he hadn’t noticed was a little bit open.  
Chi Chi went to spit this maybe even _ickier_ glob **out**, but found the big hand had grabbed around his snout while he wasn’t paying attention and wasn’t gonna let him. 

**Not** about to swallow such a gross blob of _definitely_ not food, Chi Chi went to take in a breath and felt his eyes pop open when he couldn’t. Because the stranger’s other hand was over his nose. 

Now frightened, as well as desperate to _not_ eat what was in his mouth, the kid with the tough hooves for feet kicked out and was proud when he hit something furry.  
When the hands only tightened around his face, Chi Chi kicked again, but when that didn’t work either and his lungs started to hurt, he found he couldn’t stop himself from swallowing. Even though he still didn’t want to. 

Soon as the horrible goo started slithering down his achy throat, the stranger stopped stopping him from breathing. So the piglet took in a good couple wheezes and glared where he hoped the fuzzy weirdo would feel it. 

“That was only to help you, little one.” 

Chi Chi snorted to let the no longer funny furry one know he _still_ didn’t believe him and that he hated him forever now. 

“It is true; you will feel better soon. I promise that to you.”

When he felt one of those giant, mean hands touch his face, Chi Chi took the opportunity to get a little payback. Snapping for a nip at a finger as fast as his trembly head let him. 

“Ouch!” Came the yelp that made the unwell youngster feel like he’d finally done something good that day. Although, he was pretty sure he’d missed the finger he’d been aiming for.  
“Oh, like father like son, I see. Fine. No more pats for Chiedza.” 

Chi Chi smirked at the grumpy voice and the thought of not being touched again by the unlikeable-  
Uh-oh. 

Suddenly, Chi Chi could feel his stomach tightening in a way that he’d never felt before. Like it was getting ready for something. Something he just _knew_ wasn't gonna be fun. 

~

Mmhm. He’d been right, the tiny warthog thought as he snorted and spat to clear his mouth of the last bits of nasty ‘medicinal’ goo and lunch that had just come back up and out onto his pile of leaves.  
But as soon as his stomach stopped making him spit up... all kinds of things and also stopped itself from bunching up over and over again, Chi Chi started feeling a little bit like he wasn’t sick anymore. 

After a few minutes of ignoring the fur covered meany who was _still_ sitting near him, now singing a really long song with no words, the world started to feel like it was stopping the weird spinning and his skin warmed back up to a comfortable warmth again. 

With a sigh, Chi Chi realized he was _finally_ comfy enough for a nice, **long** nap. Which was a good thing, because he was definitely tired enough to nap for a whole week without ever needing to wake up or eat or anything.  
So the not so sick anymore piglet set his mind to keep ignoring his visitor and do just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, Chi Chi’s got grit! Too bad for poor old Rafiki!


	9. Rafiki’s Job Well Done

Rafiki was now more grateful then ever that he had never been kicked by the protective warthog nudging his son with a loving snout.   
The poor shaman would not be sharing the details of _exactly_ what had happened before nightfall the previous night, but he felt that neither would Chiedza. Considering how delirious the child had seemed. 

No, the worried useless parents did not need the full weight of what had nearly happened crushing down on them for the rest of their lives. So Rafiki had left out certain details he would rather have forgotten himself and let the three have the first minutes of their morning in relative privacy. Smiling to himself as the meerkat and warthog both cried and shared a kiss of relief when their baby opened his eyes and said good morning right back to them. 

Sure, he’d earned himself a new bite mark, and he was going to be _feeling_ those little hooves to the side for quite some time, but the sight of a family able to continue being a happy family, on account of the heavens giving him no choice but to pay a visit? There was no chance he’d trade that for a few days of comfort.   
Although, Rafiki thought, giving his side a ginger rub, he would happily trade the repeated, cloven hoofed kicks for, oh, say... a ‘thank you’.

The shaman sighed and rolled his eyes at the absurd situation he’d managed to stumble his way into. Figuring now that everyone had said their fond hellos, it was a good time to see whether Chiedza would refrain from biting him long enough to make sure the child was once again approaching full health.


	10. Chi Chi’s Visitor

For some reason Chi Chi wasn’t sure about, he hated their visitor. Even though he was friendly and not mean and Timon and Pumbaa were nice back. 

Maybe it was just because Chi Chi’s tummy felt kinda achy and he didn’t feel like playing because he was tired. Maybe that was why he didn’t feel friendly to the- Rafiki monkey.  
Didn’t like it when a big hand that wasn’t Timon’s touched his face. Even though it was soft and definitely didn’t wanna hurt him and was ‘checking his temperature’. Whatever that was. 

Maybe it was that Chi Chi had to look _up_ to see Rafiki’s colorful face or maybe that if he looked down, Rafiki had hands for feet.  
Mm... nope. That part was funny. He kinda liked that part. But not the looking _up_ part. 

When Pumbaa went off to find some food they could eat for breakfast, Timon sat next to the slightly less happy than usual for some reason Chi Chi and told him about what had happened last night.  
The piglet wasn’t sure how to feel about not really remembering being sick, and definitely didn’t know how to feel about the super furry visitor being the one who had made him better, but he said thank you anyway. Mostly because Timon and Pumbaa had taught him all the magic words _days_ ago and he was good at remembering things they taught him. 

After saying that Chi Chi was welcome, Rafiki leaned down so it was easier for him and Timon to see his face and smiled before asking a question. “I was wondering if Chiedza might enjoy learning about the different plants that grow in the jungle. It would be my pleasure to teach?”

He didn’t want the monkey, as Timon called him, to stay any longer than he already had, but if he really had eaten a bad plant and made his fathers, as Rafiki called Timon and Pumbaa, worry, then Chi Chi was okay with listening to someone who he didn’t like if it would stop it happening again. 

So after Pumbaa brought everyone a little breakfast, Rafiki invited Chi Chi to take a little walk to learn a few plants’ faces. Which sounded funny because Chi Chi was pretty sure that plants didn’t _have_ faces. 

~

Rafiki was way bigger than him, but walked slow enough for Chi Chi anyway. Which was good, ‘cause the piglet was tired and would have sat down if the monkey went any faster. 

“This is the dead- uh, the _nightshade_ plant,” said Rafiki while he pointed at a tasty looking weed that had flowers and berries and juicy looking stems and-  
“It is very bad for eating and it is the reason you still feel tired after a full night’s sleep.”

Chi Chi blinked. This is definitely the kind of plant he would have eaten if he was hungry. On account of it looking so tasty. But it turned out it was a plant for only looking at and he was gonna remember that. 

“I got sick from eating that?” He asked the monkey with the long stick. 

“Yes, Chiedza. But you are okay now and that is the important part,” Rafiki said in a kind voice.  
“Can you be sure never to eat it again?”

“Yep. I’ll remember! The pretty plant with the pretty flowers and the pretty berries is bad!”

“And it is called ‘nightshade’.”

“And it’s called ‘nightshade’,” Chi Chi repeated. Before turning around and kicking some dust in the mean plant’s face. Confused when the not so bad after all monkey made an ‘ouch’ face and stepped a little farther to the side.  
Maybe he felt sorry for the nightshade plant? Probably not after all, since he threw a handful of dirt of his own at the pretty weed. Which made Chi Chi laugh. 

Maybe the two of them weren’t quite as different as he’d thought?  
Yep. He’d decided: he was gonna _not_ hate Rafiki for no reason and instead try to like him for as many reasons as he could find. 

After all, Hakuna Matata meant anybody could be your friend. So long as they weren’t bad. And Chi Chi was pretty sure his new friend _wasn’t_ bad.


	11. Pumbaa’s Trial

Watching their family’s newest member trundle off for a lesson on plant edibility, sitting in silence, eating a small lunch with his best friend for life, Pumbaa thought back on the last night and felt sadness and relief all at the same time. 

He’d been confused when Rafiki popped up in their neck of the jungle so soon after his last leaving. But it had been... unexpected the first time he visited, so that part really wasn’t that weird. 

What _had_ been, was how calm the mandrill had been when they’d caught up with their adorable squirt and found he was sick. Suddenly and worryingly. 

Rafiki looked almost as if he’d been expecting to find Chi Chi in that state. Like maybe he’d even come for a visit because he knew something was going to happen. Pumbaa _was_ pretty sure the monkey who offered his wisdom to Kings and Queens was some sort of shaman. So the occasional peek into the future just might come with the job description. For all he knew. 

Pumbaa sighed between grubs, remembering just how worried Timon had been when the three of them had found Chi Chi and the poor kid was already too dizzy to stand up.  
Didn’t wanna leave Chi Chi’s side. Didn’t wanna eat second lunch. Forgot all about dinner. Took forever to convince that since Simba trusted Rafiki with this kinda thing, they should let him do what he had to do. For Chi Chi. 

Hadn’t helped that Pumbaa had felt just as many of those things _just_ as hard as Timon.

In fact, he’d thought it had taken all of his will power to divert his worry over their poor Chi Chi into the more important activity of getting Timon to stop heckling the only animal around who could actually _help_ them and come lay down for a nap instead. The poor meerkat was frazzled beyond any resemblance of Hakuna Matata by the time he finally let himself be walked several feet away and set on his usual sleeping place on Pumbaa’s belly. 

As it turns out though, Pumbaa hadn’t even known what will power **was**. Not until he’d had to continue to pretend to be sleeping through Rafiki force feeding _his_ baby something that looked and smelled utterly horrifying and not at all like something a piglet should be eating. 

The warthog nearly got up from his makeshift bed and charged the mandrill, but the feeling of Timon sleeping fitfully on top of his belly reminded him that they had to trust the wise monkey. After all, without him, they had no hope of helping Chi Chi. Neither of them knew anything about kids being sick, even though they’d raised one kid already.  
Simba just kinda didn’t _get_ sick. Must’ve been the hypercarnivore in him. 

Pumbaa also managed to keep still and watch through slitted eyes as the piglet not far off regurgitated everything the little guy’d eaten that day, but he was primed to step in, tusks drawn, if that monkey did one more thing to-  
And then Chi Chi’s breathing had softened back to normal and the kid had finally fallen asleep for the night. 

After that, Pumbaa breathed easier knowing all three of them were going to be okay, and ended up following their kid off to the land of dreams not long after.  
Lulled by the strange song the mandrill Pumbaa hadn’t known even _could_ sing started and kept up without stopping for air. Or, at least, it sounded like he didn’t. He was gonna have to ask how he did that. 

Now though, sharing a meal with Timon, even though neither of them were very hungry, Pumbaa was beginning to feel the first waves of gratefulness sloshing around in his brain. Gratefulness that Rafiki could see the future and gratefulness at what the mandrill had decided to do with what he saw there.  
After all, Pumbaa thought with a shudder, he could have chosen to stay home and do nothing about it. 

“What’s a’matter? Grub not agreeing with ya?” Timon asked, with half an earthworm handing from his chin.

The endearing sight made Pumbaa smile and the warthog reached out a gentle hoof to pluck it off before the food had a chance to get stuck in his friend’s fur.  
“Food’s fine,” he said, offering the half worm to the meerkat who’d probably already eaten the first half of it. When Timon scrunched his nose and gave it a ‘yuck, it’s already dead’ look, Pumbaa shrugged and popped it in his own mouth. Then he sighed and looked his companion in the face and sighed again.  
“I’m just glad that Chi Chi’s gonna be okay. I- I don’t know what I would’ve done if he... wasn’t.”

“Pumbaa,” said Timon. Standing from his seat and coming to settle himself instead flush against Pumbaa’s side. Plucking a tasty beetle from the pile before continuing. “You and me both, buddy. I love that kid so much, I don’t even think it’s _healthy_.”

At that, watching him munch his beetle at a snail’s pace, Pumbaa decided that he would **never** breath a word of what he’d seen last night to the meerkat. For Timon’s sake as much as Rafiki’s. After all, the wise monkey didn’t need any more bites taken outta him for trying to do a kind thing.  
Though, Pumbaa had to admit, it _had_ been reassuring to hear his piglet not let the monkey push him around after the whole... ‘medicine’ incident. The little guy really did take after Timon. Must’ve been why he looked just like him.  
The thought made Pumbaa smile all over again as he put an arm around his friend and pulled him even closer. 

“Timon! Pumbaa!” Called exactly the voice the pair snuggling by the pile of bugs had been looking forward to hearing for the rest of their lives. “Rafiki told me _all_ the plant names!”

“Really?” Asked Timon from where he was crushed comfortably into his warthogs comfy ribs. 

Rafiki raised a hand and made a ‘more or less’ totter with it. 

“Well that’s great Chi Chi,” Pumbaa encouraged. 

“Yeah! And maybe next time Rafiki comes, he can tell them to me again, so I _remember_ that time! Huh, that’s a good idea. Glad I thought of it,” the adorable little guy said, right before trundling over to the breakfast spread and picking off the little rollies doing their best to escape the pile. 

That tore it, thought Pumbaa; the kid _definitely_ took after Timon. And Pumbaa **definitely** wouldn’t have it any other way.


	12. One Big Happy Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all that drama, I think it’s about time for some tragedy-free father, father, son, and two legged great-uncle type bonding!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to open this chapter on a sad note, but this installment marks the conclusion of this little saga. I hope that everyone enjoys the family feels!

Timon was a little more than happy to say goodbye to the ancient, insane monkey that had insisted on teaching _his_ kid about all the vegetables that grew wild right out of the ground.  
Like that was important. Ask him, it was better to just never touch the stuff, but... if his kid was gonna act like an omnivore and put green leafy things in his mouth, he couldn’t actually say anything against the lesson.  
_Safety_ lesson. 

What he _could_ say something about, and loudly, was the annoying mandrill inviting himself to stay the night ‘with’ them.  
Turns out his idea of sleeping over was making camp up in some dumb tree, so Timon actually had less of a problem with it than he’d been expecting. 

The fact that Rafiki the ‘shaman’ considered himself some sort of vegetarian only made his stay less annoying, because he didn’t try and eat any of _their_ grubs, and by the time they bedded down for the night, he’d all but forgotten about the freeloader.  
Good thing too. 

Although, Timon admitted inside the privacy of his own head, that weird song the tree dweller sang late into the night was almost... soothing. That was the only thing about the visit he wasn’t going to hold against the furry freak going forward.  
Aside from... the whole... saving Chi Chi from a really bad case of indigestion thing. Part. That part was good by him.  
In fact: Timon might even try his hand at forgiving Rafiki for being insufferable and stealing he and Pumbaa’s first kid from them for it. Someday. 

At least Simba was having fun in the Pride Lands. Letting the lionesses mold him into a King. After the slovenly mess he’d grown into with Pumbaa and him out in the jungle for parents. Parents whose only life model happened to be Hakuna Matata.  
Turns out, didn’t always work out quite so well for Kings and Queens. 

Yeah, Timon thought, grinning in glee as he watched the crazy monkey swing himself on the lower branches of the trees **away** from their home, he was gonna do his best to someday find it in his heart to forgive Rafiki. For the unforgivable act of convincing Simba to leave them before the three of them were ready for such a separation. 

If his heart ever managed to reach that stage of maturity though, it would only be possible for the healing effects of the unexplained, unexplain_able_ miracle that was Pumbaa and his darling baby. A baby who would obviously someday have Pumbaa’s stature and _already_ had Timon’s charming wit. 

As Rafiki disappeared in the far off green canopy of their beautiful home, Timon turned to the large warthog still waving a strangely cheerful goodbye, then to the small one on his other side waving a wave full of anticipation over the monkey’s promised return, and realized he was truly happy. Now that the freeloader was gone. Hehe. 

Feeling touchy-feely, the meerkat reached out a hand that Pumbaa seemed to interpret correctly on instinct, bending to let the meerkat wrap an arm over his neck. Which made Timon smile with genuine amusement. Which was interrupted by another warm body snuggling up against his other side. Tiny, affectionate snorts reminding Timon that the two of them were once again not alone in their little slice of heaven. 

Partial thanks to Rafiki- _Double_ thanks to Rafiki, Timon had an adorable, healthy head wriggling it’s way under his arm and a mighty and sudden need to say something mushy about the whole situation. So he did.  
“Well, looks like we’re just one big, happy, grub eatin’ family now.”

He felt his entire body rumble, sandwiched as he was between two giggling warthogs, and decided this was exactly how he wanted to remember his family for the rest of his life.  
Happy, healthy, and his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, there we go: One Big Happy Family!  
If I can figure out how, I’ll put up a bonus chapter that’s a picture of all the characters that showed up in the story... but crocheted! Out of yarn!  
Until then, have a great holiday season and keep the Timon and Pumbaa love alive!


End file.
